A Rose For Rosicheena
by illegiblewriter
Summary: *Four Part* Travels through the life of Rosicheena; her childhood, her road to finding purpose, her great love for her husband, and in the end her death and all she left behind to her true love: her son, Prince Vegeta of Saiyans. *Ch.2 up!*
1. Prologue

A Rose For Rosicheena 

---PROLOGUE---   

_~Lifetime of Roses~_

Remembering the field, 

A rosy, blooming field,

As a child I grew like these flow'rs,

            And many buds hoped to yield.

I went the wrong way,

Nobody there to show the way,

Wanted to go where I should,

            To where true joy lay.

Found a gentle breeze, 

A cooling, saving breeze,

And followed it to where I should go,

            A place where I found great peace.

I fell away,

Far away,

Dropped farther down than I should have gone,

            When you saved me from the fray.

Offered a real home,

Accepted and loved at this home,

I found what I needed to go on,

            And I never had to be alone.

I found my way back to the field,

I remembered how I loved the field,

And I swam in the golden sun,

            And found the many buds I had hoped to yield.

-- --- -- ---- - --

**A/n: **Sorry it was short. Real chap will be up soon. 

Each chapter is bound to be lengthy, so expect gaps between updates. There will be four main parts, and possibly a poem epilogue much like this prologue. Each of the four parts starts with a letter that will spell "ROSE" (Remembrance –Rosicheena's childhood, Obscurity –Rosicheena's complex and rough teenage years, Sovereign –Rosicheena's crowning of queen and her life in the palace, and finally, Eternity –Rosicheena's legacy after death.) ^__^ You like the idea? 

THANX,

M. V. Reed 

**BTW: **Yes, Rosicheena _is _Vegeta's real mother's name. She is written in a **Japanese fan manga** and in Japan most people consider her the real mother of the Prince of Saiyans.


	2. R

A Rose For Rosicheena****

---CHAPTER ONE---

_~Remembrance~_

_Remembering the field, _

_A rosy, blooming field,_

_As a child I grew like these flow'rs,_

_            And many buds hoped to yield._

            Remember… what do I remember about my childhood? A lot, mostly my father and his training sessions out behind the city; the ones where   after hours he would collapse and leave me to haul him home before grandmother came to scold him.  

            My father lost his fighting ability a year or so after I was born, he couldn't do much, throwing a punch took all the energy he had in him. Mom left soon after the accident that caused him to loose it and she found some other guy and had a boy. Well, you know that sealed it, dad and I were left behind. She had a guy that could fight better than my dad used to and a boy to make her proud, not girl too shy to say hello to a stranger. 

            Dad never quite gave up on himself, he would steal me for the afternoon and we'd train in the countryside just behind our home in the city. Let me tell you, my dad must have been some fighter before I was born because even with him so weak, for ten years I never could beat him.  

            I'd throw everything I had into beating him, I never could though, he was too tough. The kids on my block used to laugh when I brought him back home, they'd cry out things _their _fathers had said about mine; how he was a waste of power, how he deserved to die for being so weak, and most of all how pathetic it was that he didn't send me away, how he was too attached to me to make a real fighter. I never listened because afterwards grandmother would carry dad away to bed and cook me dinner while she told of dad's days as a fighter. He used to be one of the greatest Saiyan warriors around; he was within a few weeks of becoming an elite when _it_ happened. 

            After grandmother had fixed Dad up again and I'd eaten, she'd send me out back to the training grounds to pick up the gear that I had left behind. Whenever I got back after a few hours, I would lie and tell grandmother that the gear was spread out all over the place, and that was why it took me so long to pick it up. But like I said, that was a lie.

            Actually, the gear was always in one nice pile, I was using the hours of time alone to cry. You never cried in public on Vegeta, you never even cried in private, but I did. I couldn't help it; everything always seemed to be going wrong for my family. And I was usually at the core of it. Dad had taken that final assignment so he could get home sooner to see me… he wouldn't have been injured if he had taken the other assignment and missed my birthday. Mother never would have left if I had been a boy, and grandmother wouldn't have to worry about taking care of Dad and I. 

            But my favorite part of that time alone: the quiet. 

            Just pure, sweet wonderful silence that hung in the air and stayed there. It didn't do anything else but just stay there; it was comforting. Silence can't mock you; quiet can't ever touch you, or scare you… that was wonderful. 

            After wiping my tears, I'd wait for the red to leave my face and watch, things like the flowers sway in the breeze, there weren't many flowers on Vegeta, just a lot of dirt and rocks, but here there were flowers. Then, every now and then, a winged animal would break my glorious silence to begin cantering behind me. 

I hated that cantering. What on earth would make any being want to _cant? _It really is an ugly sound if you've ever heard it, oh a lot of other races just love to sing, but all Saiyans (especially me) despise singing. It has no purpose, singing (music in general really) I never did like it.

 I had you going there for a second, didn't I? I could never stay out there alone and so downright _peaceful_ for too long. I still had that little fighting urge after awhile of waiting. True, I do take more notice of delicate things, but fighting is still my number one priority. 

I really do have a great memory, that should make telling you about me easy, but for some reason I'm finding it hard. But I suppose the best way for you to get to know me isn't by summarizing my memories, but by telling them all. The earliest ones are brief, but they get clearer as I get older, I remember more about them. Mostly, the first few have no real words spoken, I simply have the connotation of what must have been spoken. 

i-- --- -- ---- - --

_            At four, my father sent me to the center of the city, where I was to take classes at a school where I was supposed to learn how to fight. Like many others at the school though, I had already been trained by some relative or other and in my case my father. _

_            Walking into the large room for the first time, I was to say nothing short of nervous. Inside my nerves were rattling and my bones were shaking. Outside though, I was as I had already been taught:  sturdy, collected and tough. All the others looked similarly, I noticed how few girls the room held but wasn't shocked. Most girls were held back a few years because they were smaller, but then some parents like my own, sent their girls earlier, trying to make them tougher._

_ I was the youngest in the room, two years younger than the youngest of the boys and as many as five years younger than one of the older girls. But age here didn't matter, none of us had attended school before and we made no complaint when asked to be seated at one of the blue mats. _

_I seated myself four rows back and two mats in from the right. Little did I know that this was the perfect spot to avoid being observed but to enjoy wholeheartedly observing others. I was just far enough back that the instructor never once called upon me, but I could see the progress of everyone in front of me. And even better, everyone in front of me happened to be the stronger fighter; the ones too eager to show off than to sit in the back; and I studied every one of them. That year I made more progress than all of them. I'd watch as one learned a new technique and as another made a mistake; I learned from each and every one of them until I knew more than the classes at least two years ahead of me. _

_But that was on the mats._

_In the ring?_

_I wasn't nearly though enough._

_One day, a month or so after I started class, the instructor called us out of our room and outside onto a platform. We had all seen it far away, but now we were actually standing on it. In the center of the platform was a large, white painted ring. The instructor told us it would be our first test, we would each fight one other classmate, how well we did would determine whether or not we moved on out of our pre-training and into the real thing. _

_I was paired with one of the boys from the front row. He was older than all the other boys, he had actually started training early and was so good they bumped him to third year training his first year, and he actually studied fourth year… but that happened before he moved here from a separate city. The school hadn't logged anything on his graduation from first through third training, so he was stuck here in the pre classes a year older than most of the boys._

_Our fight was to be the sixth, which fortunately left plenty of time for everyone else to become preoccupied with some other activity while we fought. _

_I had studied this boy's fighting style from my seat in the middle of the room and knew it pretty well. My problem was I only knew how to block about half of his attacks, and he was already so far ahead of the rest… I knew without a doubt there were attacks I hadn't ever seen that he knew. But that didn't matter, I though that if I could just keep a cool head, I'd be fine._

_Our names were called: " Tora and Rosicheena."_

_A chilly wind brushed my hair as I stepped into the ring and a few strands fell into my eyes. I realized that I needed to pull it back and hurriedly brought out a band and wrapped my black hair behind me. The boy smirked, and I became aware of how small I was compared to him._

_The fight began and I was petrified; no one but my father had ever fought with me, and here he was, this boy practically three years older than myself in a fighting stance opposite me!_

_Needless to say, the fight didn't last too long. I managed to hold on for about three minutes, (which in the end is how I was allowed to move out of pre-training, holding off a boy with four years more experience then me for three minute, not bad considering) and I even landed a kick in his gut, but then…_

_His leg swung straight for my face and I blacked-out._

_My first fight._

_-- --- -- ---- - --_

            When I was six, this is one of the foggier memories, I remember seeing my mother walking into the front hallway. He face is too vague, but in her arms is a bundle of blankets. I don't know how I found out, but I knew it was a baby. I tugged at her leg, and said something. Even though I don't know the exact words, I know it must have been something along the lines of, "can I hold him"? I may not remember what **I **said, but what she said… it's as clear as day.

            Like cold knife cutting through me, she sharply replied, "You don't deserve to touch him you dirty rat!" 

            After that, my grandmother walked in and I left. I remember grandmother yelling at my mother, saying how embarrassed she was that she was her daughter. I had never heard before that my grandmother was my **mother's **mother and not my father's.

            That night, or maybe it was day, (how would I know?) Dad came into my room. I tried to wipe away those first tears I have ever shed, but it was futile. He knew but he didn't seem too disappointed, maybe it was because he had cried too, after his injury of course, not over mother. Well, he wrapped his arms around me and gave me something. It was red, and soft, and living. He gave me a rose, and I've kept that rose and kissed it every single day since then.             

The first time I cried.

-- --- -- ---- - -- 

            It was my seventh birthday, and it's not the memory that's important this time. It's what I got who gave it to me. 

            Birthday ceremonies almost never take place on Vegeta, and this birthday was no different, but I eventually gained three gifts:

            My grandmother gave me a necklace, jewelry is hardly ever found on Vegeta, it's so rare that outside of Vegeta (because it's not valued here, let me remind you) people will pay **millions **for authentic Saiyan jewelry. Most Saiyans who own it will sell it, simply because it has such low value to them, but I knew I would never sell my grandmother's necklace. It was made of a golden/silvery substance found only on Vegeta, and in the center was a line of clear, crystal-like jewels, from which hung more crystals, and at the end of the dangling chain of jewels was a another of the perfectly cut gems, but it was cut into a rose. It was very old, and probably one of those plundered from the home of one of the Tuffles from long ago. 

I'd never wear it (or at least I didn't think I would) but I thanked my grandmother and set it inside a special box that I hid under my bed. 

My father gave me my first real scouter. I'd borrowed cheep ones from the school before, but I had never owned a truly useful one before. It was green, and at the time, had the best programming technology on the planet. 

My only "friend", Tora, gave the third and final gift to me on my home from school. Our fight had impressed him, even though I wore a black eye for months afterwards, and we talked. I loved making fun of him whenever I saw him in the front row making one of his rare errors. When I told him he'd punch me and tell me to shut my mouth… and then he'd show me the move he'd been trying to learn. 

Anyway, he gave me a candy bar. 

I really dunno why that's important, but I guess it must have been because I remember it.

-- --- -- ---- - --

            When I was nine, the whole of Vegeta went into a frenzy because our King had conquered the planet Goratt. The entire planet was overcome with excitement and everywhere you turned there was a party going on. Goratt had been on the market for quite a few years, and many other races had tried several times to conquer and sell it, as such, by the time we sent in one of our squads, it was worth several millions. It was our planet's first attempt at Goratt and our elites did the job in two days. Our planet now became several times richer than before, and that was the heart of all the celebrations. 

            They lasted about a week, these celebrations, and during them I traveled more of the city than I ever had in my life. My father and I always traveled off of the actual road, Vegeta's roads were never really good, (Saiyans don't care about the condition of our own planet, just the condition of others) the concrete has always been broken up and holes and cracks infest the road, making it very bumpy and rough to travel on so we never did. 

            After four days of celebrating my father took me to a small restaurant at the center of the city. It was one of the rare ones that actually good to eat at, seeing as food is commonly imported because most Saiyans are terrible cooks. But the meal—or even the celebration, isn't what's important. I couldn't tell you so much as what time it was or what I ate, or how I left the restaurant. All I know is, that when I **did** leave the restaurant (however I did) I came out to realize everyone around me bowing with their noses touching the filthy sidewalks. I had just enough time to look around and find the reason for the crowd's unusual actions when I was suddenly hauled up by the back of my cloak and delivered a sharp blow to the head, knocking me out.

            I awoke in a dark room, but my head was spinning and I found it too hard to focus on anything in the room. Rubbing my sore neck, my ears began to pick up shouting outside the door. A small window was at the top of the door; I hauled myself up as close as I could because I was for some reason too weak to fly. Reaching the window, I looked out and saw my father and two royal guards yelling at each other. More like my father was yelling and the guards were repeatedly telling him, " She will see the king and Prince and it will be decided there. You may not see her until it has been decided." 

            Over and over again they said this and my father became more and more enraged and I became more and more confused and dare I even say…afraid? 

            Yes, I was afraid. Truly afraid, and I was ashamed of it. No Saiyan should ever be afraid of something, and yet I was. 

            I thankfully wasn't in that dark room for long. I was released from it about two hours after I had awoken and shoved by the two guards down the hallway. My father had been forced to leave, not that he didn't put up a fight. He released an energy blast that gave the man that took him away a hair cut similar to a Mohawk. 

            Shoved down the hall and up a flight of stairs I came to realize that what I had been in was like a dungeon, especially compared to the building above. The walls were glistening and the floors shone. Precious gems dotted the walls, floors, and ceiling, glimmering in the light cast by the large chandeliers overhead. Though I was nervous, I refused to show it. You must imagine, at nine I was, for a reason I had no knowledge of, being held in the **royal palace **and being ushered around by guards ten times my size. 

            We turned and reached a door. The guard to my left knocked, he spoke through the door, "Guards Kovik and Brocil: escorting Rai, Rosicheena," and the doors opened to reveal the man who had taken my father away. I could tell it was him because he had not yet rid himself of the accidental haircut he had received from my father. 

            The two guards gave a quick bow to the Saiyan and I did the same. They then shoved my inside and I was suddenly standing in the middle of a gigantic and very empty room. 

            The guard (who I came to realize was an elite) led me down to the other side of the room, and slowly two figures came into sight. One was about seven feet tall and about forty years old. The other seemed only to be maybe thirteen or so, however he was over six feet – much taller than me. At nine I was considered a Saiyan runt: Four feet ten inches. 

            Coming closer I noticed that the two were –! But the moment I recognized them and began to bow, the giant guard behind me grabbed my neck and pushed me to the floor, even though we were both still walking. He too bowed, but not nearly as deeply. The elite were allowed to at least **look **at the King. That's right—the King! I was in the same room as the King and Prince and I was spending it examining the purple marble floor. (Which for some reason or other I remember had a crack in it—just one of those random things you remember I guess.) 

            "Here she is King Vegeta," the guard had a cold voice, "the little runt who didn't bow when you and the Prince walked by on the streets yesterday."

            **That **was what I was here for! Maybe a silly crime to you, but a serious one on Vegeta… and I hadn't known before what I had done, and now that I did—I was furious! I wasn't even given the chance to bow when I saw them yesterday! I looked around—finally spotted them—and then was knocked out before I could do anything!

            "Yes Nappa, we know." The King seemed agitated. 

            "Well sire, I suggest that we bind her up and send her to the dungeons for a few weeks and then sign her on as a servant for the next year or so, then maybe—"

            "Oh Nappa, really." This time I thought it was the Prince that spoke. For fourteen (I knew he was that old) he sounded very adult-like. Not at all a child's voice. "I saw the girl. I was just telling Father how I don't believe she saw us before you decided to knock her to the floor. She can't be expected to do anything if she can't even see us."

            Ahaha! The Prince knew she hadn't seen them until too late! This could turn out all right. But it really only mattered if the King agreed with him. 

            He seemed to, because the next thing King Vegeta said was, "Well, there will be no telling whether she did or didn't Nappa without asking her. Now," his voice became less harsh when he changed from talking to Nappa to talking to me, "did you see us before Nappa hit you in the neck?" 

            Well… I **had **seen them; it would be a lie if I said I didn't. I nodded my head from my position on the ground. 

            "You see, my King,"

            "I'm not finished Nappa," King Vegeta cut in, and then he continued to question me, "did you have time to bow once you saw us?" 

            I shook my head, no. 

            "She could be lying sire,"

            "I am not!" I whipped my head up to look at Nappa, my voice sounded like a squeak compared to when the three men were speaking before. I kept my eyes away from the King and Prince—I knew as long as I didn't look at them I could stay on the floor and glare at Nappa all I wanted. 

            "You little twerp! Don't interrupt!" He made a move to kick me but I made an indignant dodge while still remaining on the floor bowing to the two royals. 

            "Nappa, stop," I thought I heard the King struggling to keep back a chuckle, "she hasn't done anything wrong," he tried to prevent his laugh again, "leave her alone." 

            I returned my head to the floor and as I did I thought I caught the Prince hiding back a smirk. 

            And that was how it seemed to end. After a few words the King and Prince calmed down Nappa, released me and told me that the two guards from before would escort me to my father outside of the palace. The two guards, Kovik and Brocil, came in and we left the room, but not before the King asked me my age and where I came from,

            "I'm nine sir, and I live in north Squaj, sir."

            "What school do you go to?"

            "Squaj Second Level Fighting School, sir,"

            "And what level at your school?" 

            "Seventh next month,"

            "And at nine?"

            "Yes sir," I replied. The King's interest seemed satisfied. He smiled and let me go.

            I met my father as they said I would and we left the palace grounds hurriedly. All that night he and grandmother asked me to tell what had happened and I did, leaving out the part where I spoke out and dodged Nappa's kick. But when Tora asked me about it the next day, I told him; he shook his head and told me I was something else. I asked why he would say that but all he did in response was smirk and continue to walk down the street.

-- --- -- ---- - --/i

**A/n:**! Sorry if there's no plot in this chapter, but I can't really help that, this is just a part I have to get out of the way. It'll get better later. 

And YES, those weird tid-bits I added here and there are actually there for something. We all remember insane stuff that we're not sure why, you know? It's part of the authenticity (like I really care about authenticity).

Anyway, how do you like? Told you it'd be awhile, but then again, I also told you it'd be lengthy, did I not? 

Well, please review! 


End file.
